The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 43: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

26 THE COURT OF LONDON shut the door and returned to the room where his three companions had remained. ‘“‘ Betrayed — basely betrayed! ’’ he growled forth as he replaced the light on the table and. flung himself upon the bench. ‘‘ Yes, and there’s no doubt as to who’s betrayed us,” said the Buttoner. ‘ Nell Gibson alone could have peached about that business at Sir Douglas Huntingdon’s. I dare say instead of having gone back to Mother Young’s, she’s cut and bolted. But at all events, Dll go and see.”’ “No, stay here, old feller,’’ exclaimed Bencull. ‘‘ Let’s do nothing hastily, for there’s no telling how Larry may have his eye upon us. At all events, let’s see whether the Hangman comes back, and if so, what he says.” This advice was adopted, and the four ruffians applied themselves with renewed energy to the spirits and tobacco, in order to cheer their minds after the scene that had just taken place, the particulars of which afforded them ample food for discussion till about half-past twelve o’clock, when the Hangman returned. Bursting with the fury of his pent-up feelings, the diabol- ical nature of which was reflected upon his countenance, Daniel Coffin no sooner entered the little room than he demanded what had taken place. In a few hurried words the required explanations were given; and he in his turn was then called upon to describe how he had fared in Long Acre. ‘“ By Satan! I scarcely know that I shall have patience enough to tell you,” he exclaimed, his naturally hangdog countenance suddenly assuming a look so truly diabolical that even his companions felt their blood run cold in their veins for a moment. ‘‘ But, however, let me try and com- pose myself to a task that is ten thousand times more un- nleasant than tucking up a feller at the Old Bailey. Well, on reaching Long Acre, a little after eleven, I knocked at Sampson’s door, and Dame Margery — that’s his old house- keeper, you know — almost immediately opened it. ‘ Pray, ma’am,’ says I, ‘is Mr. Sampson at home?’ just for all the world as if I hadn’t the least idea that he was out. ‘ No, sir, he is not,’ says she in such a civil manner that I really thought the old girl didn’t recollect who I was; but she speedily undeceived me on this point, saying, ‘I think you Gomicbdooks (E(0)